Spectrum
by Ladiladida
Summary: Anna and Sherlock have met before, but their paths collide again and he and John uncover murder, secrets, drugs and violence with Anna seeming to be in the eye of the storm, but a very different tempest is beginning.  not a SH/OFC love story
1. Avoidance

**Author Notes: Hey guys this is a sequel to Cold Calling, but you don't need to have read it necessarily to follow this story. CC was more of a crime story, Spectrum is more of a character study. For those reading Cold Calling it is awaiting its final chapter but the entire thing is currently being beta'ed so it will be resolved soon. This story is not a Sherlock/OC romance though drugs, violence, sex and disturbing behaviour will feature in this story. Reviews really would be appreciated. It has been beta'ed**

**Chapter 1**

The familiar agony ran up the bone, the muscles contracted, the pain came. How good it felt to feel a bit of agony again.

_Time to breathe._

Exhaling from her swollen, red tinctured lips she could feel every nerve ending fizzing. It was simmering just beneath the pain.

_Time to move._

She pushed aside the clammy figure and swung her legs over the bed. What was that she could feel? Was her heart still pounding slightly? Foot flexed, lips pursed, teeth gritted she placed both feet onto the raggedy carpet beneath and stood up.

The fizzing resurfaced, the stiffness began, but the pain deliciously started to fade.

Anna looked back at the heavy breathing lump she'd just copulated with and assessed her physical state. Sticky and awake. The leg lock had almost been worth it.

…..

"FlirtFetish has come off Sky," John observed as he channel hopped. He was glad that he had become converted to Sky, he saw it as an investment. Sherlock could barely remember the name and so gave it the only response it deserved, silence. "No doubt three people killed by a murderer who then got shot put people off slightly."

Sherlock replied vaguely remembered what John was referring to. He was far too busy with his own experiments, experiments which John tried so hard not to look at.

"Doesn't time fly?"

"No John it doesn't, it drags."

"But that was nearly a year ago! A year ago, Sherlock…. That means I've been here for…." John paused to mentally count the months; he never finished his sentence as though admitting the time out loud would be bad luck.

"Could you write something down for me John?" Sherlock said, more command than request. John reluctantly got up from his comfy position and picked up a pen. His friend hinted to a piece of paper that was near him.

There was a knock at the door and at John's "come in", Mrs Hudson popped her head in. John greeted her with a smile and moved over to her. Needless to say Sherlock did not move.

"Hello," she said warmly to John, "I've brought your milk."

"Thank you Mrs Hudson, that's kind of you."

"Well since I was going that way," she replied. "Evening Sherlock."

"Mrs Hudson." He answered with a nod, his eyes still not leaving his work.

"What is he actually doing?" she whispered. John's answer was a shrug of the shoulders teamed with a roll of the eyes. Mrs Hudson laughed, but Sherlock put down his work and walked to them both.

"Important work Mrs Hudson, whereas John prefers to cruise the chat channels," he explained, and he was gratified when the look Mrs Hudson gave the pair of them was bafflement.

"Does that not bother you Sherlock?"

"Not a bit. It keeps him quiet."

John looked at Sherlock, his brow knitting slightly with disapproval. Mrs Hudson would never get the gist if he said things like that.

"Suddenly I need some air," John said as he grabbed his coat, bypassing Sherlock and Mrs Hudson. They remained stood looking at one another a moment.

"Well, those channels must be good for something," Mrs Hudson ventured before she turned and went back to her own rooms. Sherlock looked about the room, his eyes casting over his experiment. Suddenly it lost all its importance and interest. Boredom chimed in his mind and riddled his bones, how he hated this life sometimes.

…..

Anna darted away from Chris in disgust, until now she had ignored the flipping of her stomach. There he was with his arm shaking violently in her direction as his entire frame was slumped in a chair. Diverting her eyes from him, Anna avoided looking at the discoloured penis hanging out of his jeans.

"Anyone would think you've not seen one before," he stuttered; half laughing, half desperate.

"Have you heard yourself?" she said hoarsely, feeling bile coming up her throat. She grabbed a cushion from the sofa and threw it in his direction, "cover up, you're a mess."

Chris' shaking hand covered his penis with the cushion, whilst his other still clung to the hideous object of his affection.

"You can see I've not got a steady hand Anna, do you want me to hurt myself?"

"I am not injecting it."

"Go fuck yourself!" Chris replied, losing his temper and slamming his shaking hand down on the chair arm.

"No Chris, you go fuck yourself. Or maybe not if you shoot up into your cock. Isn't that the last bastion of the truly desperate?"

"Just a little prick…. Come on, it must be a change from sucking one," Chris said snidely. Anna headed for the door as he staggered up from the chair, no dignity about him. He lost his balance and went crashing onto the floor. Anna didn't move. "I can't find a fucking vein!"

Anna didn't stay to hear anymore, pushing down the desire to act any other way than she was about to, she left.

…..

"Sherlock!" Mycroft responded infuriated, as his brother yet again rebuffed his olive branch.

"How do you like Mycroft's waistcoat, John?" Sherlock asked, typically deflecting the conversation. "Quite handy for the diet, covers all manner of sins."

"It's er…" John didn't really know how to respond when the intention was to irritate Mycroft. "Very smart."

"Well one does try to make an effort," Mycroft replied, "especially when one is demanded, rather than consulted."

"I thought consulting was the very reason you came to see me."

"Reason is the reason I'm here, you just refuse to see it." Mycroft said taking up his umbrella as the patter of rain against the window still lulled in his ears. "But as usual I see it's pointless to try."

Mycroft closed in to John's personal space, a habit becoming more frequent with every visit. What followed was a long stare, a prolonged handshake and "take care of my brother, he needs it" said in a low tone that John almost thought was attempting to be seductive. John was never upset, and only a little perturbed by this behaviour, but he was always amused at seeing Sherlock's look of annoyance.

With Mycroft gone, the pair settled back into their seats. John mulled over asking a question that was always on the tip of his tongue whenever Mycroft had left.

"Is Mycroft married?"

"What?"

"Is Mycroft married?"

"Only to his job, I imagine. I told you the different things he's involved in. He wouldn't have time for much else. Why?" Sherlock asked, the 'why?' spoke with higher intonation almost betraying curiosity.

"No reason." John replied. "It's just…"

"He doesn't understand your desire for personal space?"

"No. But then neither do you sometimes."

"Usually when I'm saving your life."

"Well, I dream of one day having personal space and living a normal life," John joked, but looking at Sherlock he saw the humour wasn't shared.

"Are you not seeing Sarah tonight?" Sherlock asked finally, breaking the silence as he opened the newspaper; there seemed little else to do so he might as well indulge.

"No."

John thought to himself again. There was another question that had hung on his tongue since that awkward relationship conversation in Angelo's. He considered an indirect way of asking.

"A normal life," he mused.

"What about it?"

"Well in a normal life, I'd be with Sarah watching telly, going out. Or having sex."

He only heard a sigh of disapproval from behind the newspaper.

"What?" John asked.

"Your mind works in such a small circle."

"What? Because I think about sex? We're not all high functioning sociopaths, but my deduction would be despite your attitude to life in general even you must need it sometimes. It's not something you need to display emotions for..."

"I know," Sherlock interrupted.

"...whatever your preference," John blurted but was soon wincing at the fact he'd dared say it. Despite slight curiosity, he didn't actually want to know which way Sherlock's compass pointed.

Sherlock didn't respond, though John waited several minutes for a reply. When he didn't get one he shook his head and clicked on the television. Maybe next time, he thought.


	2. Old Flames

**Chapter 2**

The man was a lump and he was useless. Pounding into her like a battering ram yet for her there was no pleasure, there was no pain either but how was it worth it? One of his hands was fisted into her hair tight on her scalp, the other gripped her thigh, pushing it upwards. Anna pressed his buttocks hoping to try and angle him but he was to in a world of his own. It was no good.

_I need. I need now._

Without grace or ceremony she pushed the guy onto his back, straddled him and began moving at a rhythm that suited her. It didn't take long, she knew what she wanted. His hands clawed up to her hips after skimming her thighs and he was uttering the stupidest things. They weren't all like this, some were fantastic but then the odd one was like this.

She ground down mercilessly, brutally and she didn't look at him much. Her head flung back, her messy hair cascading behind her curled with lust and sweat. But the friction on her clit and the knot was tightening, thank god now she could feel what she came for. Ignoring the cries, grunts, touches and attempted kisses from her partner she hurtled herself towards the end she craved. Hands clawing his chest she didn't listen when he cried out in pain, for soon he just kept on grunting.

Then at last it was here, hips grinding against hips, one, two, three. Her back arched and she screamed, really screamed. Pleasure mixed with overcoming the frustration of the fucktard underneath her made her scream. It ripped through her, enthralled her and burned her physically. She felt his release inside her as a vague echo. She felt fantastic, listless and beyond it all, she didn't need drugs like Chris, she needed this. Looking down at the lump she felt no emotion, it was a fantastic feeling.

…

Lestrade had brought Sherlock in almost immediately, when they reached the scene smoke still lingered in the air and the smell of embers was pungent. John looked at the burnt out offices that had been the headquarters of FlirtFetish, he looked over to Sherlock.

"Was anyone killed?" He asked.

"Only one, we think the Manager. He wasn't badly burnt though, Anderson thinks it was asphyxiation. He's at Barts. It looks like another gas leak."

Sherlock almost smiled to himself, the look didn't go unnoticed by anyone, particularly Donovan.

"Getting off on this again, maybe we should get a club to go around starting fires just to entertain you!"

"Sally!" Lestrade replied, raising his hand in a calm gesture for her to be quiet. Donovan moped off towards the forensics team.

Sherlock took John aside, both knowing exactly what was going on here.

"The order came through then." John said gravely.

"He bided his time, another gas leak." Sherlock replied lightly.

"Yeah a nice touch, clearly it amused him and you."

"Something has happened to make him act after such a long time." Sherlock mused, soon he was lost to his thoughts and John could only look on.

"What about the bar?" John asked but no answer came. "That took a scathing after the murders, do you think he will target there?"

Sherlock moved to Lestrade.

"You need to check everyone involved in the Cold Calling case." Sherlock explained. "Every employee or anyone who worked closely with the affiliation."

"Of course."

"In particular Henry Montague."

"Do you think he's in danger?" Lestrade asked.

"What about the girl?" John added. "Anna wasn't it?"

"Yes, her to, find her." Sherlock nodded and then he hinted to John that they should go to Barts and view the body.

As they walked John smiled to himself and said.

"I'm flattered."

"What?" Sherlock asked as he was broken from his reverie.

"You used one of my case titles from my blog just then."

"Did I?"

"Yes." John nodded smugly.

"Well it was a quicker form of explanation."

"Still, like you said and I quote 'I'd be lost without my blogger'."

Sherlock stopped, turned and looked at John, his brow knitted with a displeased expression.

"This is a murder investigation John, try and take it seriously."

…

Sherlock sat in 221b Baker Street the following morning, facts looping in a circuit mentally. The man had been strangled by bare hands, had taken a beating and then had been left to burn. The only odd thing about his person was that his tie was missing. That however had soon been found pinned to the door of 221b upon their return with a note merely saying 'don't get burnt'. It was classic Moriarty, the Moriarty he had met at the swimming pool. All the theatrics with the sardonic nature running through it like a spine. His phone beeped, it was a text from Lestrade.

_Henry Montague no longer runs Blitz, he is currently a co owner of two restaurants in Soho and Primrose Hill. We haven't found Anna Lyons yet. Lestrade._

This was interesting, it was as though this extension of one of Moriarty's many enterprises had closed shop. Not immediately to arouse suspicion and to allow time to silence the respective threats. Sherlock knew Henry Montague would not be done with Moriarty, he was merely the driver of another vehicle now. But Anna, how deep had she been in he was never fully sure and now where was she? Missing implied trouble. But what had FlirtFetish's Manager Terry Hutton said or done that provoked his murder was the starting point.

John returned to the flat carrying two bags of shopping. Sherlock nodded to him without looking up yet he sensed a very positive air about John. His friend wandered into the kitchen and packed away the shopping contentedly; ignoring a pan containing a concoction he cared not to ask about.

"Pleasant evening?" Sherlock ventured finally.

"Very pleasant."

"I've no doubt Mycroft has a full account of your doings."

"I hope not." John said humbly with a slight blush, a blush that didn't go unnoticed or without reaction in Sherlock.

"Well at least it will give his spies something to do." Muttered the detective.

John sat down in the chair opposite, relieved to be back home after a chilly walk. Sherlock noticed sex was in the atmosphere, John had had a productive night.

"Any updates?" He asked.

"Yes, Mr Montague is a new proprietor of two restaurants and the second in command is missing."

"Anna? She was a nice girl."

"You're so quick to think well of people John, I don't know if people would find that endearing or irritating." Sherlock mused pressing his index fingers under his chin.

"Well you wouldn't think of either as normal human behaviour doesn't register."

"I may surprise you one day."

John didn't answer that, he didn't want to think about it. Instead they sat together in absolute silence, Sherlock indulging in thoughts of murder, John fantasising about Sarah.

…..

Chris was writhing in the chair, his torturer as he saw it looming over him. Anna was tall for a woman but had he been fully competent she'd have struggled. But now after sixteen hours Chris needed a fix, a fix she wouldn't give him.

"I feel like I'm dying!" He groaned his gnawed nails running red marks over his face, saliva collecting in the corners of his mouth. He smelt terrible, he looked half dead and he was emotionally volatile. "You're a fucking psychopath, you're enjoying this."

"Where are you getting it from? Who's bringing it?"

"Fuck off! I need it!"

"You have only needed it the last 8 months, you were a responsible father of one before then. You want Ben to see you like this? A fucking piss soaked mess!"

"What about you? If you'd have been here…. But no out bending over for any guy who happens to be in an alleyway."

A globule of saliva flew involuntarily from his mouth and hit her cheek, she turned in disgust unable to take his rancid breath.

"What I do won't kill me." She breathed.

"If only it would, I pray some fucked up pervert takes you home and rips you open!"

His words almost penetrated her defence, it was a sick, twisted sentence but she'd learnt slowly to shield herself from these things. Sticks and stones she metalized, sticks and stones. There was a bang on the door, Chris unable to even stand watched as Anna flew to it. Opening it, she beheld a wan looking slut holding carrier bag. Without thinking Anna grabbed the bag and ripped it open the goods Chris coveted landing on the floor. Red descended as Anna gripped the woman's arms and threw her in the flat. What followed was screaming, fury and blood that left the nameless woman staggering from that flat fifteen minutes later bearing more than a broken nose.

More screaming between Anna and Chris ensued, leading to Anna throwing the drugs in his direction and storming out. Collapsed against a wall she breathed raw, her hands aching and head spinning. She held them out in front of her and watched them tremor, the anger rippled through her faintly but she was coming down. The knot came back, the tension, she needed something and fast.

As she descended the stairs slowly, her legs wobbling as she cursed the broken lift she heard voices. By the time she reached the bottom a police car awaited her.


	3. Travel Lodge

**Chapter 3**

Anna was released the following morning. The night in the cell had actually been a great time for clarity. She focused her mind and reduced the inner hell that called itself need. The girl she had harmed hadn't mentioned the real reason Anna had attacked her, so Anna used this to her advantage, keeping Chris completely out of the picture. When the police had picked her up she had looked several states of hell; messy hair, bruised, tired and emotionally fraught so it was easy to lie and say they were a pair of friends who had fallen out.

She walked along, deciding during the course of last night not to go back to her brother's where she had been crashing on and off lately. As she passed a shop window she caught an alarming glimpse of herself. A year ago she was a seemingly vivacious, golden blonde who had a great figure. Now she was wan and gaunt from stress, her hair was its natural mucky blonde and she felt dull. Where did she go now?

….

Lestrade was annoyed, the search for Anna Lyons had proved fruitful over night, but she had been released from custody before word had got to him at Scotland Yard. Now they didn't know where she had gone and were scrutinising CCTV. She had tested negative for drugs, yet her appearance had made Lestrade initially think she was some kind of junkie. He brought Sherlock in when the CCTV trail looked positive.

"Mr Henry Montague has gone to Prague on a stag weekend it would seem," Lestrade grumbled, "we'll pick him up when he lands."

"What about Anna Lyons?"

"Taken into custody last night for GBH, we think over drugs but they claim it was over a man. She tested negative for any illegal substances or heavy alcohol consumption. She gave the other girl a good pasting, though."

"A very different character from eight months ago," Sherlock murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Does she have a permanent address, job etc?"

"Not that we've found yet, she's very below the radar," Lestrade replied.

"Could she be doing grittier work for your friend these days, Sherlock?" John asked.

"Possibly. But her circumstances seem to have taken a desperate turn. Any relatives in London?"

"Not that we know of," Lestrade said. "But we've found her again today, she got on the tube and was also caught on camera in several shops."

Donovan came in at that, looking displeased - as usual - upon seeing Sherlock. John tried to smile at her; he still hoped that one day she might warm up to them slightly.

"She's used her bank card as well as her Oyster Card and she's checked into a Travel Lodge in Farringdon," Sally updated them.

"Thanks Sally," Lestrade replied and she soon shuffled out. Sherlock moved in close to John.

"What do you think?"

"Well, it's odd."

"Why?"

John was reluctant to speak the 'obvious' but Sherlock looked at him intently, inviting his viewpoint.

"Well… to pick a Travel Lodge, she could be easily found."

"What else?"

"Why doesn't she have a place to stay?" John replied.

"Exactly. She's either very clever or very stupid. It's likely she's not going to her normal home now she is on record with the police. Because whatever's at home, she doesn't want anyone to know about. She can afford an Oyster Card, and judging by her afternoon shopping spree isn't short of funds, so why a Travel Lodge? Good, John."

"Thank you." John replied, the intrigue of Anna coupled with the fire created that familiar buzz in his stomach. "Do you think she is working for Moriarty? Or even just Henry Montague?"

"Possibly. But her actions yesterday have caused her to be noticed by one party she doesn't want to be, that much is clear."

"Yeah, that poor girl. I remember Anna mentioning she kick boxed." John mentioned casually, but the remark caused Sherlock to press his hands together suddenly.

"Of course!"

….

John and Sherlock stood at the check-in desk of Travel Lodge Farringdon; the receptionist ready to deal with them, so of course Sherlock pushed John forward to the inevitably awkward conversation.

"Hello. I… we would like a room please."

"Certainly, when would you like to check in?"

"Now, please." John replied nervously, suddenly feeling a dread when the lady gave 'that look' upon noticing Sherlock standing in very close proximity. The receptionist took some details and moved to the computer.

"You do realise what she's thinking," John whispered.

"I have no interest in how a receptionists sordid mind works. Working here would likely give your mind that natural bent." Sherlock said glumly. "Once we have the keys, you need to fall over."

"I... what?"

"So I can see where Anna is staying."

"Why can't you do it?"

"You will have dived to the ground in Afghanistan, you've got it down to a fine art. Plus, you'd never get the information quickly enough, " Sherlock sniffed.

They were checked in, key cards in hand. Sherlock went ahead and had barely turned when he heard John fall, cry and cause a hubbub. The computer was his, and John was that good a performer that Sherlock even managed to swipe an extra key card for Anna's room.

….

Anna's hotel room gave little away, aside from displaying evidence of a woman trying to reclaim her former attractiveness. There were two boxes of hair dye, new makeup, black lace lingerie and clothes all bagged up amongst the sparse furnishings. An empty trainer box and some tags in the bin showed Sherlock she had gone to locate a gym. Then amongst her toiletries were her prescribed Microgynin and a box of featherlite condoms.

"I think our Miss Lyons has a definite plan for the evening." Sherlock mused.

"It feels wrong going through a woman's things, Sherlock, can we go?"

"To _our_room?" Sherlock said pointedly.

John groaned, he was not looking forward to having to be cooped up in a Travel Lodge room with Sherlock. They were a few doors down from Anna and the acoustics made it easy to hear people coming and going down the corridor. They left everything as they had found it and sauntered out of the room. However they got the surprise of their life when on opening the door to 'their' room, they found a very amused Mycroft was seated on the end of the bed.

"Hello," he said smugly.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, deeply aggravated.

"Well the front desk called the police after the security cameras caught a man of your description tampering with equipment and stealing key cards. Naturally I heard instantaneously so I came to smooth it out."

"Well you may go now as we are busy!" Sherlock said opening the door.

"Clearly," Mycroft smirked and he got up. "Nice to see you again John."

There it was again, the personal space invasion and unnecessary lingering.

"Mycroft," John replied.

"So tell me, it didn't strike me as odd to hear you'd checked in to a double room together; I thought you were maybe being courteous to Mrs Hudson. But what inspired the need to make it a happy three? I am particularly surprised at you, Sherlock." Mycroft asked, taking a seat again and looking ever more pleased by the second. Sherlock came and stood by John, his eyes scanning Mycroft with passive aggression.

"A case." John replied.

"Oh, a _case_."

"Why what else did you think it would be?" John asked.

"I think you know, John," Mycroft replied and was that a wink he just gave? John couldn't be sure, he hoped not.

Suddenly Sherlock shushed them both and moved towards the door, pressing his ear to it. Sure enough footsteps and the sound of the door opening. Quickly Sherlock opened the door and peered out, just as Anna's door was closing. When he returned to the group the frown had gone and his eyes were wide.

"Time for you to go Mycroft."

"Very well. So long as I have everything…. ah, _straightened_out."

Mycroft wandered off idly down the corridor, taking his time. Once he had left Sherlock and John proceeded to Anna's door. Sherlock's leather clad hand rapped twice, though John could clearly hear the shower running. It took some time but the door opened, and there stood Anna. She was showing signs of fatigue yet her skin was glowing from apparent exercise and her eyes were bright. She showed no signs of recognising them, face blank of emotion.

"Hello Miss Lyons," Sherlock began.


	4. Questions

If Anna Lyons was in any way afraid or perturbed by her surprise visitors, she didn't show it. In fact she seemed remarkably composed clad only in a long, white towel kindly supplied by Travel Lodge. Her hair was falling past her shoulders and her beauty, though clouded by her circumstances still remained.

"Good morning," she said calmly, "or is it afternoon, I haven't actually checked my watch."

"Hello," John said nervously, feeling a tad embarrassed at catching Anna at an inappropriate time. John noticed Sherlock wasn't similarly worried.

"It's Sherlock isn't it? And you're John?" Anna asked.

"Yes we met several months ago," John replied.

"Eight," Sherlock corrected.

"Yes, I never forget a face," said Anna lightly and she stepped aside and gestured to them to enter the room. "Just give me two minutes."

The pair were left in an identical version of their own room; all of the belongings they had sifted through were still in their bags. But the timing of their arrival was providing new evidence for Sherlock. One thing that Anna's partial nakedness had revealed was some bruising on her shoulders, little dark circles from fingers of her victim no doubt. Though the bruises weren't the deep dark purple that someone would have when skin puts pressure on skin. At the time of the attack she had been wearing at least two layers, and logic said to Sherlock that she had not intending to fight or else she would have divested with her more restrictive layers. So was the seemingly cool Anna Lyons a secret hot head?

Anna called to John from the bathroom to pass her one of the bags which he obligingly did and fought off the temptation to try and catch a slight glimpse. It appeared on his return that even Sherlock had guessed his temptation for there was a look on his face John couldn't quite fathom. John tried to shrug it off by changing the subject.

"It was quite disturbing seeing your brother just now," John said.

"He likes his surprise entrances. I'm surprised he never went on the stage."

"I'm starting to feel like a toy rabbit being pulled between two spoilt children."

"Well that's unlikely, a toy rabbit would never have interested Mycroft and certainly not me." Sherlock replied wryly.

"You know what I mean."

The bathroom door opened and Anna emerged in fitted jeans and a tank top, her hair now twisted into a messy bun and her beauty further coaxed out with mascara and lipgloss. She leaned on the table, pushing the kettle a little further up and looked at the pair.

"So, what can I do for you both?"

"You will have heard about the fire at the FlirtFetish main office two days ago?" Sherlock began.

"Yes, but only whilst I was out today, and I never know how much to believe from the papers. "

"Your also aware of the murder of FlirtFetish's manager?"

"Yes. Look… Sherlock. When I left Blitz, I didn't know what was going on. I left because it was just too damning, you can imagine what it did to my CV."

"Where have you been since then?" Sherlock asked.

"I took Henry's advice and went on holiday. We both felt we'd let our customers down, not realising that was going on under our nose, I needed a break."

"And then?"

"I rested on my laurels. You remember, Sherlock, we had a conversation once about money being one of the perks of my job. Getting a new job immediately would have been insane. I knew wherever I went people would ask about the whole thing, it was merely a coincidence. I don't want people with a morbid curiosity giving me the Spanish inquisition," Anna explained listlessly.

"Forgive me Anna, but from the accounts given by the police after your arrest you were in lowly circumstances, yet now you seem able to buy what you want now. The facts could suggest you were hiding."

"Or that I was a prostitute," she chimed sarcastically, but she gave Sherlock a small smile, realising that perhaps she wasn't helping. "I'm sorry, please ask me direct questions and I'll try and give you direct answers."

"Describe your relationship with Henry Montague?"

"Employer and once or twice lover on a slow night in the office. He was a member of the population of London with whom I knew where I stood," she replied. "We got on very well."

"Then why did you not go back to him for work, I see he's opened two restaurants?"

Anna looked at her broken fingernails and examined her hands, she let out a sigh yet her emotions didn't seem dampened.

"I knew where I was with him. But I didn't know the ins and outs of him. I've no doubt now that I was used to divert the attention from whatever he had going on. But whatever it was, I still haven't a clue."

"Did you feel threatened?" John chipped in.

"No. I count my blessings that I always felt safe."

"But to put yourself in circumstances so different from what you were accustomed to?"

"Change can be boring but it gives you something to do."

"So where have you been staying the last few months?"

"I have been _outstaying_my welcome with various friends with sofas."

Anna looked at Sherlock, for the first time she knew that he didn't believe what she'd just said and for some reason she felt inclined to be assertive if she couldn't bring herself to be truthful.

"Sherlock, John," Anna said with firmness to her voice. "My reasons, if you would be so kind as to appreciate them, are my reasons. They are in no way linked to what happened, all that was merely a springboard for me to do something else with my life."

There was a pause, it was a respectful one. Sherlock could tell she was not withholding anything on this point, nothing about her body or voice suggested she was lying.

"Anna, do you have any reason to believe that the fire and murder could be linked?" Sherlock asked finally, their eyes locking together.

"I expect they will be, but I really don't know how. But I think Henry would be worth speaking to."

"He's on a stag weekend in Prague," John said and Anna smiled.

"There's something amusing about that?" Sherlock asked, almost smiling himself.

"I'm sure you can imagine."

"I would still be interested to hear your view," Sherlock replied, surprising John. Apart from John himself and Lestrade, Sherlock was completely disinterested in people's opinions.

"Henry doesn't do binge drinking whilst indulging sucks and fucks with prostitutes in kinky hotels. We both speak the same language in that sense."

"Anna, you said direct answers," Sherlock said with a hint of sarcasm.

"We both like sex on our terms. And neither of us could be bothered with all that frippery. Henry for a start is so apathetic to anything that isn't money. I'm sorry to put it in such a clichéd way but there it is."

Sherlock could not think of any other reason to remain with Anna at this point, he was gratified she had likely exposed the rouse of Henry Montague's convenient absence.

"Anna, you need to either remain here or let Detective Inspector Lestrade know your address. We may need to contact you again."

Sherlock moved towards the door but Anna stopped him and put out her hand.

"It was nice to see you again Mr Holmes, astute and impolite as always," she said jokingly, the remark won her a fleeting bit of eye contact before he left the room. John however lingered a few moments, trying to make up any social grace lacking in Sherlock's departure.

"You look rather tired John. But, remarkably sane," she said mildly putting out her hand to him, he took it willingly.

"So do you." They both laughed.

"Take care of yourself," she said gently. "Not that I know you that well but…"

"You too."

John knew better than to linger and Anna was thinking about the shower she was deprived of. They parted with a smile. As John walked back to 'their' room he started to wonder how all of this fitted together.


	5. An unlikely Gift

_**Authors notes: Hi to anyone who reads this, from here on this fic has not been beta'ed so I apologise for any grammatical errors. Its been a while since I updated this fic but these were 3 chapters I found and if it seems there's still interest in this fic then I will continue with it further.**_

_Four days later._

Sherlock sat with dissatisfaction at his laptop, John was idly watching telly. The case had ground to a halt, murder was clear and the explosion had been deliberate. But it was the work of a used to seamless crime. They had nothing to go on, it was as though FlirtFetish's destruction was nothing more than a delayed swansong rather than the start of a new case. It was early in the day and soon Mrs Hudson tapped on the door and entered. John got up to greet her, she was carrying a rather large parcel.

"Sherlock, this just came for you." She prattled and soon dipped out again when she realised their was no conversation to be had. On the contrary, Sherlock had darted up taken the parcel and was examining it keenly without so much as a thank you. John had obliged her with the everyday mans manners and off she went.

"You aren't going to open it now are you?" John asked raising an eyebrow. "Were you expecting it?"

"I was expecting something, but this is new." Sherlock answered. "The weight and size of its perameters suggests to me it's a laptop."

"Hmmm yes, or perhaps a bomb."

"Care for a little danger?" Sherlock said with a smile.

"No, Mrs Hudson is in the building and I have plans for the evening."

"Oh John, when did you become so boring."

Sherlock surmised it would not be a bomb, his deduction said only one man would allow him to be killed, Moriarty. He had his finger in a lot of pies and Sherlock suspected were any other threats on his life he would know about it and put a stop to it. For had he not promised something special for Sherlock's demise? Carefully he peeled back the gaffa tape and unwrapped the parcel, he was right it was a laptop. The top of it had a coffee cup ring or two and scratch marks from finger nails.

"Look here John." Sherlock instructed and John came over and looked closely at the marks. "Prised from a reluctant pair of hands."

John nodded and gave Sherlock a familiar look, something was most definitely stirring again.

"We should call Lestrade."

"He would still have me examine first John, we'll call him later." Sherlock replied and he opened the lid, passing a sideways glance to John who was wincing slightly. "It's not a bomb John."

"I know."

The lid was lifted and a note was inside, humorously written in wax crayon.

_A gift unwillingly given. Password JennaJameson._

Sherlock's heart started to hammer, the glee of the chase starting up again becoming that all to addictive consumption. He placed the laptop on the table and started it up.

"Who do you think it's from?"

"Well judging by the finger marks, the state of it and the password I would say a unmarried man. The laptop is a fairly new model and yet has sustained heavy ware, suggesting by the password a large amount of time is spent looking at internet pornography. The windows screen was there and Sherlock typed the password in, John felt queasy.

"I'd wash your hands after this Sherlock." He said uneasily, dreading to think what the hands of the owner had been like. Sherlock stared at the screen as it loaded but ventured.

"Yes mother."

The wallpaper uploaded and both men stared at it, one in disbelief, the other in complete bliss. There on the screen was a picture of Anna Lyons face from what seemed like a holiday picture.

"Interesting." Sherlock said but his eyes were diverted to an icon for a folder that said,

_Oh please look at me._

Doubling clicking the folder opened to show over fifty pictures of Anna Lyons out and about from a distance. Sherlock enlarged them and sifted through them.

"They are from the last few days, see the slight markings on her neck and cheek."

"She looks more like the Anna we first met, she's dyed her hair and is dressing…"

"She thinks it's safe to show her face again." Sherlock interrupted. "Call Lestrade and explain the situation, someone was following her and someone possibly still is."

John performed the task whilst Sherlock looked over the rest of the computer. Amongst the images were older pictures of Anna from some months previous and even candids what must have been from her own collection. Two or three featured a man similar to her age that showed some form of intimacy, the mans arm about her shoulder and both smiling. There were also some from the Blitz days of Anna and Henry Montague both looking very close indeed. But Sherlock felt Anna had been truthful with him about herself and Henry. It was Henry he was mistrustful of. Other folders contained pornographic imagery and Sherlock turned to the emails of the man, but he found none, the man obviously had enough blood in his brain at certain points to delete any incriminating ones. Though Sherlock could tell from the progress of the man's observations of Anna that he obviously had been unexpectedly interrupted and was now likely dead.

John returned and from his face Sherlock knew there was news for him.

"Well?"

"Anna turned up at the station."

"When?"

"About ten minutes ago, apparently she's rather shaken. Not another word was spoken, coats were donned, a taxi was hailed and it was straight to Scotland Yard.

….

Sherlock saw Anna seated holding a coffee in both her hands, she was staring ahead of her. John instinctively went and sat by her as Sherlock spoke quietly to Lestrade.

"What happened to her?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know exactly, she just came in and asked to see me and then asked me to bring you in."

"The laptop is with Anderson." Sherlock said.

"But you've already looked it over?"

"Yes, the owner is likely missing."

"I have to say I've got no idea what's bloody going on." Lestrade complained.

"As soon as I find out I'll let you know." Sherlock said ruefully, his excitement and interest evident. The pair went to find Anderson and look at the images again on the computer.

Meanwhile John sat alongside Anna, watching as she turned the cup round and round in her hands, for a few minutes there was silence then she turned to him.

"I hope I didn't disturb you." She said placidly.

"Not at all. Are you alright?"

"A little confused, it would appear someone seems to think I'm of interest."

"You've not been hurt have you?"

"No."

"Has anyone approached?"

"I've been followed since we last met, but I presumed it was a copper." She laughed.

John was surprised, he imagined she would be disturbed and unsettled but she seemed completely composed. The coffee continued to turn in her hands.

"Do you have any idea who could be doing all this?" John asked.

"Someone who thinks I know a great deal more than I do, I honestly have no idea how I could be important." She explained. "You know I don't even know what I'm doing day to day at the minute. Think I better find some employment for myself though."

"I think you might have to put that plan off for a little bit longer."

"What about you John?"

"Me?"

"Yes, tell me about you."

"Me… well I…" He didn't really know what to say or where to start. "I'm a doctor."

"That suits you. I never go to my GP but I think I would come and see you. GP's are either incompetent or creepy."

"Well with Sherlock…. Well no my life in general, I wouldn't say I've been a GP."

"What are you then?"

"Well I was an army Doctor but now I'm…. I assist Sherlock on cases."

"And when you're not on cases, what do you do with yourself?"

"Eat, sleep. This and that really." John said vaguely.

"You don't sound so sure." Anna laughed quietly.

It was odd for John to talk about himself, he and Sherlock didn't have chats about the little things, Mrs Hudson just rambled happily and he couldn't talk to Harriet. Yet here was a virtual stranger asking him about himself and though he knew the answers on a life that made him happy, he found it hard to describe.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" She asked, and John was relieved for once someone on the outside didn't wonder if he and Sherlock were together.

"I'm seeing someone." He replied. "And you?"

"Not really my forte, relationships." She sighed, putting the coffee on the floor beside her and turning to look at John more fully. John took in her appearance, her hair was now a sunny blonde and a natural beauty was heightened with smoky eyes and tinted lips. Yet her face bore little expression, her eyes spoke of intelligence and sharpness but betrayed no emotion. He wondered if she was truly cold?

"You sound like someone I know." He replied. "Can I ask, why aren't you staying with family or friends at the moment? A Travel Lodge is not the best idea?"

"Surely you can tell that I don't exactly recommend myself to people, people don't warm to me. And family well…. They are nice enough but…"

They were interrupted by Sherlock who seemed to appear as if from no where. Anna looked up at him.

"Now Miss Lyons…. Tell me everything from the beginning."

They stared at each other for a moment, her sharp eyes meeting his all seeing ones and slowly a smile broke out on her face.

"Would I be right in thinking that your pleased about this?" She asked.

John became worried, he felt the desperate need to appease before Sherlock opened his mouth.

"No he isn't… he is just very keen to…"

"John, shut up!" Sherlock reprimanded.

Johns mouth snapped shut and he frowned, on Sherlock's head it be if she would any moment clam up and tell them nothing.

"Are you enjoying this?" She asked again.

"I don't tend to relate my work to enjoyment Miss Lyons."

"A very nice answer that answer's nothing." Anna replied.

"My personal feelings have little to do with this case."

"Neither do mine apparently." She said. "I came here because I was told to, and I was told to ask for you."

"By whom?"

"I don't know, but I was told someone was following me and if I didn't seek your protection I'd soon be in a body bag."

This information enthralled Sherlock, it possibly had Moriarty written all over it, but why? She was no threat to any connection he could have.

"Well Miss Lyons, clearly you must know something that you haven't seen as relevant or someone thinks you do. And it has drawn their attention to you."

"Then I suppose I must let someone else be concerned for my welfare for a change." She sighed.

Sherlock disappeared for a moment and soon brought through a chair, sitting himself down opposite Anna he once again caught her gaze and simply said.

"Tell me everything."

The only problem was, Anna had no idea where to start.


	6. Tea and Sleep

**Chapter 6**

There was only one problem for Sherlock when cases started to gain momentum, and that was that one new development could interrupt an unfinished one. Anna was just beginning her explanation of anything relevant she could think of when Lestrade called him into his office. A body of a man had been found beaten to death, dumped in a derelict warehouse. Nothing about this had seemed linked until the police had found the digital camera left on his person had several recent photo's of Anna. They had their stalker, but nothing else had been left to identify him. Or nothing they could see.

With her stalker dead, though the threat not eradicated Sherlock made a decision. He instructed Lestrade to have an escort take Anna to 221b and placed in the care of Mrs Hudson. She was to wait there until he and John returned from seeing the body.

"Isn't it a bit unorthodox, taking a witness to your flat?" Anna asked ruefully.

"Mrs Hudson makes a fine cup of tea." Was Sherlock's only reply and he and John left her in the care of Lestrades men. As Anna stepped into the police car she instructed them to take her first to Farringdon Travel Lodge as she now felt it was not a safe place to be. When she returned with her small bag the look of disbelief on the face of the driver didn't escape her.

"Eyes on the road, perhaps." She said softly, the voice she used to make most people think she actually gave a damn about them. The driver smiled and they made their way to 221b.

…

Mrs Hudson sat Anna down as though she was royalty, the best mug was brought, the biscuits were opened and her best chair and two good cushions were offered to her. The gracious landlady was going to oblige letting Anna in to Sherlock and John's flat but at Anna's request they remained in her own lodgings. Despite not feeling particularly social, Anna preferred the idea of passing the time with the old lady as otherwise tedium would only ensue. She had little desire to root around in a flat owned by a pair of bachelors. Mrs Hudson didn't really have much idea why she was entertaining Anna but the phrase 'Sherlock asked me to come here' was reason enough. Anna had decided to keep the details to minimum.

"Well, Anna." Mrs Hudson asked finally sitting down. "What do you do with yourself?"

"I turn my hands to a few things, most recently management."

"Oh, that must have been nice, though I imagine sometimes rather stressful."

"Sometimes." She replied with a small smile. "But it pays the bills."

Mrs Hudson smiled back and even gave a small chuckle of the truly unhampered and happy.

"You're a very pretty girl." Mrs Hudson said merrily, obviously glad at the company. "I bet you're not short of admirers."

"What was it Marilyn Monroe said? My heart belongs to daddy." Anna joked in return.

"Are you not married then?"

"No. But you are."

"Was, poor dear."

"I'm sorry." Anna said before taking a delicious infusion of tea. It certainly beat her own tea, she didn't seem to have a knack for making tea, but Mrs Hudson had it in abundance.

"Comes to us all. Sherlock got him off a murder charge a few years back."

"A good tenant then."

"Not very tidy though, though John tries his best." Mrs Hudson trilled.

"Do you think they will be long?" Anna asked.

"You can never tell, sometimes they are out all night. I don't know what they must get up to."

The look on Mrs Hudsons face seemed to infer a double meaning, but Anna knowing how so many people made judgements without any fact chose not to take her words too much to heart.

"Well at least they are never bored."

The pair sipped their tea in silence for a few minutes and Anna realised now she was sat comfortably that she was quite tired. In fact the longer the silence went on the more tired she became, she blamed the room they were in and the comfort Mrs Hudson created. The chair seemed to become her best friend, offering the exact soothing of her hither to active body. Her eyelids began to droop and she wisely put down her cup. Seeming to understand the girls want for sleep Mrs Hudson came and stood by the chair, resting her hand on Anna's shoulder.

"Come with me my dear, you can rest on my bed."

"Oh no thank you." Anna said drowsily. "That's too much."

"Nonsense." Mrs Hudson replied firmly, helping Anna up and leading the way to her room. The door was closed and Anna looked at the simply decorated room and soon took off her shoes and coat and rested herself on the bed. Before she could think another thought, she was out like a light.

…..

Mrs Hudson was waiting on the landing for Sherlock, hearing the door close. He darted up the stairs with John not far behind and when he looked passed into her rooms he saw no one there.

"Did they not bring Anna Lyons here?"

"Oh yes, she's having a nap. Poor girl was done in."

"Where is she?"

"In my bedroom."

"That was very kind of you Mrs Hudson." John chipped in but Sherlock overlapped him.

"Go and wake her up please and bring her upstairs."

"Sherlock let her sleep." John replied gruffly. "We don't all run on lack of sleep as well as you."

"This is a murder investigation."

"But surely if she has a clear head she might remember more."

Sherlock seemed unsatisfied but he appeared to relent and trudged upstairs. John stayed a moment to abet Mrs Hudson further with both he and Sherlock's gratitude (which Sherlock had omitted to say).

"I'll send her up Doctor Watson when she wakes up. She seems a nice girl, is she alright?"

"She will be." John nodded smiling.

"She's very beautiful."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Now that's a lie if ever I saw one." Mrs Hudson said and started to wander back into her own rooms. John waited till she had closed the door and then wandered up to his own flat. Sherlock was sat at the table looking over the dead man's laptop that Lestrade had obligingly let him take.

"The man was clearly an amateur. An everyday Fuji camera and the laptop has one predictable password."

"Do you think Henry Montague has anything to do with this?"

"Undoubtedly." Sherlock said. "But I am certain we are dealing with two different groups of people."

"But what can she know to warrant all this?" John asked aloud.

"Well we might know but you insisted she sleep."

"Just because I get no sleep due to you, doesn't mean she has to be deprived."

"Her bag was in Mrs Hudsons rooms." Sherlock noted. "She is afraid though she won't admit it."

"Well I think if you knew someone was trying to kill you, you would be unsettled."

Sherlock turned and looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"You forget, someone does plan to kill me."

"I think his plan was to burn you first." John replied. "Have you not thought of telling Mycroft about Moriarty?"

"And miss all the fun, don't be stupid John it doesn't suit you."

…

Anna knew she was dreaming, she knew it and yet the feelings and sensations were overwhelmingly real. She could feel pressure round her throat, breath constricted high in her chest and yet she didn't want to writhe or struggle. Instead a montage of the past and present mingled together Christopher, her parents ever so fleetingly, Sherlock, John, dancing and sexual partners. And all the while the pressure seemed to increase, yet she would not struggle and didn't feel scared. Instead her dream played in front of her and she was conscious she was relaxing. Part of her began to sense a presence at the back of her mind, creeping forward. Was it a threat? She wasn't sure yet, but she was soon to find out when all of a sudden the physical pressures released and her eyes opened. She was as she had been before, sleeping in a foetal position in Mrs Hudson's bed. But the presence she had sense was now watching her from the door, it was Sherlock Holmes.

"I'm almost glad to see you." She breathed, sitting up and smoothing her hair.

"Pleasant sleep?"

"Very."

"Are you ready to speak to me?" He asked.

"Yes."

Sherlock side stepped so she would be able to pass out the room before him if she chose, this small bit of gallantry she hadn't expected. Getting up she moved nearer to the door and looked at him a second, his cold, grey eyes were a pleasant sight to her. She couldn't bear soft eyes in a policeman or their acquaintances. The pair moved out of Mrs Hudson's flat and up the stairs. As they approached the door of Sherlock's rooms, Anna got the distinct impression that life was about to change.


	7. Choosing a game

As Anna took a seat and Sherlock likewise, John played mother and put the kettle on. Running her fingers through her hair, Anna arranged it into a ponytail escaping the partial bed head she was suffering with. Sherlock watched all the while as she sat calmly and focused on a small task without seeming concerned by what was going on around her. Once she still again she looked at Sherlock and said normally.

"You have a very lovely housekeeper."

"Yes, she's quite marvellous in her way." Sherlock replied. "I suppose it won't surprise you if I tell you the man we found was certainly the man that was following you. And that his interest in you has been extensive over the past week."

"He'd have had a pointless task, all I've done if shopped or gone to the gym." She said with what sounded like sympathy in her voice. "I just wish I could tell you what all this is about."

"Could you tell me exactly where you've been since we last saw you 8 months ago, you gave me a brief account but I suspect there may be more that you are not aware of."

"Well like I said I went on holiday for a few weeks, to Spain and onto Rome."

"Alone?"

"I travelled alone."

"Did you just take in the sights?"

"Yes, I cannot stay still and sunbathe, I like to be active. I walked, swam and found a delightful tennis partner for two days called June. She was gracious enough to let me win a few when my skill was rather inferior."

"And whom did you stay with on your return, you said to me before you stayed with friends. Where do these friends live?"

John re entered with mugs of tea and set them down before Anna and his own place, Sherlock as usual drank nothing during this interview. John flashed Anna a small smile, worrying that Sherlock's probing might make her nervous, it didn't.

"I stayed with Kelsey or rather at Kelsey's flat, you may remember her she was one of the bar staff from Blitz, black hair down to the base of her back. She was going away and needed someone to dog sit."

"How long exactly?"

"Ten days."

"So where have you been the rest of the time?"

Anna pursed her lips together, then took out a lip balm and coated them with it.

"I was living with a male or two."

John slurped his tea rather two loudly in surprise but the gaze between Anna and Sherlock was not broken, but it was Anna who spoke again.

"Whatever that comment says about me I'm not a whore."

"Your lifestyle choice doesn't interest me." Sherlock said with a strange tone that could not be discerned as disinterested or attempting to make Anna feel more at ease. "How did you meet these men?"

"The first one his name was Graham, I think his last name was Proctor. We met and after a few meetings he asked if I would live with him. Sex on tap I suppose." Anna said nonchalantly but then her tone cooled to an almost insecure one. "I know it doesn't sound great, and I know you say you're not interested but still…. I don't plan to live like this. I just don't think and I'm in a situation. Sorry."

"There's no need to apologise Anna." John assured her. "Is there Sherlock?"

"Where does Graham Proctor live?"

"He has a flat in Kensington, but I think he say he had a weekend house in Dorset."

"I see and why did you part ways?"

"Things go stale after a while don't they?"

"How long?"

"5 weeks."

"Was he married?"

"Separated, I believe." She replied.

"And where did you go then?"

"Richard Porter, ten days in the Bermondsey Square hotel, back to Kelseys for a few nights on the sofa. I flitted between there and other places, some I'm ashamed to say I can't remember. I did that for three or four months."

"And the remaining time?"

Anna went quiet, Sherlock saw her eyes flick down to her hands that still rested calmly ontop of each other on her lap.

"If you don't tell me Anna it may make me believe that here is where the trouble started."

"Trouble did start." She said looking up again. "But your trouble and my trouble are two different things. It's something I don't want to talk about as its personal. I can give you addresses and names of everything I can remember up to then but…"

"Anna, remember you were arrested earlier this week for GBH."

"It was just a tussle over a man … a man we both had designs on I suppose."

"Who's name is?"

Anna sighed, she finally showed some emotion, the annoyance on her face being evident.

"Have I lied to you about anything so far?"

"No." Sherlock replied. "But then we have only ever had a few short meetings."

John interjected sensing that the rapport between the two was fading.

"Anna, we need to know everything so we can protect you."

Anna looked to John, his reassuring look thawed her anger so she addressed her answer to him rather than Sherlock.

"Michael Eddowes."

Sherlock observed her strong posture, acute eye contact and sturdy voice. She was telling the truth as far as he could see. But none of this made any sense, all of her statements had suggested a perhaps jealous rival rather than any link to the fire at FlirtFetish. Could another woman or a past lover have been having her followed? Possible, but it's strange how the stalker only began recently.

"Michael and I have been living together for a while, we've known each other longer. There was a girl, the girl I attacked, she was bad news."

Anna didn't have to say anymore on the subject, Sherlock heard all he needed for now. But now there was the question of keeping her safe, she would be useful upon Henry Montague's return and was definitely a key pawn in this game. Whether she knew it or not.

"The question Anna is where are you going to stay? I saw you have brought all that you have with you."

"Yes, I will find another hotel."

"No need, upstairs is free." Sherlock replied.

"Are you putting me under house arrest?"

"Not at all, but someone is playing a game Anna and it involves you."

"But I doubt you let all your witnesses stay in the flat above you?" Anna said doubtfully.

"Nor do I get Mrs Hudson to mind them." He said dryly giving her a glimpse of a smile. "I presume you wouldn't have a problem with that?"

"It would be in your best interest." John chipped in quickly, trying to reinforce the argument. Anna looked from one to the other, this strange duo who weren't part of the police force. She nodded her head slowly.

"Right I best go speak to Mrs Hudson." Sherlock replied, darting out the room. This left Anna and John together again, she liked John, as far as she could like people.

"He's enjoying himself." She said dryly.

"Don't be offended, the more you get to know him, the more you'll realise he needs this." John replied, not knowing why he gave such an intimate answer about Sherlock to her.

"Well we all need something from time to time, I suppose. I know that better than anyone."

John felt himself almost blush at her comment, she saw this and said quietly.

"I'm not as black and white as you think you know."

"None of us are." He replied, taking up his tea again as she did the same.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"I wish I knew, but somehow I think he'll soon find out."

"That's a guarantee."

He smiled at her and for the first time since she arrived today, she gave a full, beaming smile in return. It further ignited the beauty she already had and John looked at her in awe. He didn't fancy her exactly, but he was fascinated. How could one person seemingly be involved in so much, yet have no idea? Just then he caught a glimpse of her eyes, they seemed almost black. It took his breath away, the colour hadn't changed, but it was as though he suddenly saw into the heart of her, the depth of her. For a moment he almost felt disturbed, it all seemed churned, black and unreadable. Just who was she?

….

John met Sherlock on the landing, he had left Anna watching tv.

"Something just happened." John muttered.

"She was lying about Michael Eddowes."

"How do you know?"

"Attacking a woman over jealousy, she's had a string of lovers with no emotional ties, the only time she got angry was when we touched an obviously person nerve but the rest of the time she is borderline apathetic. A woman like that doesn't feel jealousy, that attack was not over a man. There's something more."

"I think your right, just now when we were sat together…. I happened to look at her and…. I don't know in her eyes I saw… something I've seen before in my own eyes when I first got back." John babbled and Sherlock looked at him with affirmation and nodded.

"That's why we need to keep her close by."

"Do you still think this could be Moriarty?" John asked.

Sherlock looked at him square in the eye.

"I think there's more than one game being played."


	8. Doors and Stairs

_**Authors notes: Hello any patient readers remaining with this fic. It's starting again I've finally got the time to sit down and continue it, though please forgive unbeta'edness. I would really love some reviews letting me know what you think about the story too. Thanks.**_

**Chapter 8**

It didn't take Anna long to unpack for she had very little with her, but she had appreciated Johns offer of help and the beautiful bunch of flowers Mrs Hudson had brought her. But she did not see Sherlock anymore that day__and she had no inclination to go to the pairs flat. Three days past and she didn't leave the house. Changing into some comfy trousers and a tank top she laid back on her bed and deliberated. This was where the problems started, she had said about the need for activity when on holiday, here she needed occupation too. That had been an advantage back in her Blitz days, at the darkest time of day she would be working, then she could sleep, shop and if it took her fancy fuck with the rest.

How long might she be living here? She had little doubt it would take the genius downstairs long to figure out who killed who and why. But if his intention was to solve her too then he could take a long walk off a short pier. It was she that needed to do the solving, she owed Christopher nothing and liked him even less, but that wasn't the point. It gave her a centre point, a focus, was she secretly a control freak? No, she just didn't like her brother being controlled by anyone who dangled the promise of a fix before his eyes.

This was unbearable, she couldn't think and she had only been here a matter of days. Could she go out? She needed to check on Christopher but that wasn't easy now. They had said she wasn't under house arrest but then that could all change if she left. The last thing she needed was strangers getting over protective.

This was no good.

No good.

…..

Two hours passed, she looked at the clock, it was quarter to three in the morning. Rummaging through her clothes she found a comfy, over large cardigan and put it on and some trainers. Peering around the door all was dusky and silent, she quietly made her way down the flights of stairs. Some would have held their breath and tensed up with fear as they passed Sherlock Holmes' door, but she didn't, she merely travelled with the courtesy anyone would towards a neighbour when returning at a late hour. She reached the front door and placed her hands on it, the cool feel of it was a welcome relief from the over comfortable warmth of her quarters. Opening the door quietly she stepped forward and listened as the hubbub of night time London filled her ears. She needn't move any further, this was ample enough clarity till she could find better. She wrapped the cardigan tighter around herself and inhaled and exhaled with a sense of freedom.

"Even my front door can be a dangerous place to stand." Said a voice from behind her, it didn't startle or surprise her and she turned her head slowly and saw him standing halfway down the stair case looking at her.

"That's almost cat like grace you had there, I didn't hear you." She replied.

"I imagine because you weren't expecting me."

"Well here you are."

She turned back and looked out onto Baker Str eet, it's street lamps casting a theatrical feel onto the pavement, a more extrovert person would have felt like a budding actress about to step on stage. But not her, if it didn't serve her purpose she wouldn't move. Sherlock moved behind her and squeezing by her slightly looked around the empty street, there was no danger it seemed, just darkness.

"What does this do for you Anna?"

"I like wide open spaces, especially ones that do not have people in them."

"That sounds almost misanthropic."

"Take it as you would like." She replied then realising he was still standing next to her she laughed. "Forgive me that was almost rude."

"I have never stood on this doorstep and looked out before." He said.

"You have far more important calls on your time I should imagine."

"Yourself being one of them so I might suggest we shut the door."

"Oh if you like, I can sit on the stairs providing that's allowed?" She replied and she moved towards the bottom step of the stairs and sat upon it, Sherlock gave one last scan around the street before closing and locking the door. He stood by it but turned and looked at her.

"You're worried I was going to wander off, aren't you?" She asked.

"It certainly would be a stupid move."

"Then I promise you Sherlock, you can credit me with some intelligence. If I thought any danger would befall me going out there, I wouldn't." Then her tone changed and seemed to soften. "Please, I don't want to stop you from doing whatever you were in the middle of before…"

"I was bored."

"Bored?"

"Yes, bored. When things don't move along I get bored…"

"Have you considered scrabble?" She joked, but the joke seemed to bypass Sherlock and detonate with an uninspiring fizzle somewhere across the road.

"I have informed Lestrade that you are staying here, he's coming around in the morning."

"You've only just told him?"

"Yes."

This made her laugh to herself.

"I thought I might go to the gym in the morning." She said.

"He will likely insist you have an escort."

"If that is the way it has to be." She sighed.

"It may mean a temporary halt on some of your activities…" Sherlock explained without emotion.

"I may well surprise you… do you imagine I immerse myself in sex that much that I cannot live without it? I am not an addict, nor am I an emotionally broken woman who seeks to find love from bed to bed…"

"That does not interest me…"

"No it doesn't, yet it still gets mentioned…" She shot back at him quickly. "I understand your reputation and your great mind… I understand you're very likely above all this… it might surprise you to know that where feeling is concerned I…."

Anna stopped suddenly, deciding she didn't have to explain herself and even if she did he'd likely already guess what she was about to say. The cold part of her was quite obvious, it wasn't the part of herself she focused on withholding.

"Perhaps I should run out there now, it might get things moving before we both succumb to tedium."

Silence fell between them for what seemed the longest minute, Anna locked her fingers together and Sherlock seemed to bypass her and focus on every sound from out on the street. Finally Sherlock walked up towards her and she had to move for it would seem he had intended to walk through her. He did turn halfway up the stairs and speak again to her.

"Whatever you wish to do, just don't be an idiot."

Then he disappeared and she heard his door close. He had irritated her, she didn't like overbearing people who wanted to know all. Yet here was a man who was uninterested in everything but the bit she would never tell him. That annoyed her aswell, why couldn't she continue her route undisturbed, there were things she needed to do. She wasn't an idiot, if she stepped out there now she could continue with her intentions and if someone killed her, well they would find her eventually. It was just a question of timing. Everyone else only cared about her life because of their belief she knew more than she was letting on.

"Fuck you all." She said quietly, she needed to go.

Without silence or ceremony she opened the door, looked about briskly then started out at a run little caring if the great Sherlock Holmes was behind her or not.


	9. Clarity

**Chapter 9**

"_Where the fuck have you been?" Christopher groaned as he slovenly tried to move in her direction, he looked like shit. Dark circles framed his narrow eyes and he smelt rancid. She had hauled him into the shower, fed him then left. She wasn't worried he'd leave the hole he was living in, he couldn't manage, yet there was something eating at the back of her mind as she cleaned him up._

"_Has anyone been here?"_

"_Just her. I fucked her all over." He laughed, he laughed almost hysterically then his face contorted in pain. "As if I fucking could!"_

"_It will get better."_

"_Oh fuck off you whore, you're enjoying this. You're watching for a change!"_

_She had slapped him, hard. She didn't care that he was rock bottom, he was a bastard and he needed to know it._

"_No one comes in, do you hear?"_

…

Anna was not popular this morning, but she didn't care. Kelsey really hadn't appreciated the early knock nor the request for money. The luke warm water coating Anna's face enabled her to focus, she could remember every line and look on her friends face when she'd opened the door. It's true she hadn't thought through her plan to run out into the street with no means to get around. She remembered the burning rasp of her lungs and throat as she had run for what seemed like ages to Kelsey's door. It had been exhilarating, when it should have been terrifying.

It was now 7.30am and she was floating face down in the swimming pool looking corpse like. She rolled onto her back every so often when the need to breath became essential, but she was good at holding her breath and the immersion was calming on her. It was as vital as breath. She heard one of the doors swing at the other end of the pool, but she remained face down. She wasn't insolent and rude, but whoever it was if they really wanted her would soon make their presence known.

"When you're quite ready." A female voice said, it was a voice she vaguely recognised and the tone already irritated her. Anna slowly rolled onto her back then stood up in the pool, her feet well able to touch the ground. Standing at the pool edge was DCI Lestrade and next to him that woman with the frizzy hair she had taken an instant dislike too.

"What are you doing here?" Lestrade asked.

"I should have thought that was obvious." Anna replied, staying where she was.

"I might suggest when you're in possible danger, now is not the right time to do a moon light flit to go for a swim."

"I was told I could come and go as I please." Anna said, softening her tone to appear sorry. "It was stupid of me I'm sorry."

She gracefully swam to the edge and made a point of pulling herself out dexterously in front of Lestrade and an unamused Sally Donovan.

"Look if you want to go somewhere just phone me and I'll see you get about safe."

"Is that a personal guarantee?" Anna asked.

"Donovan here will make sure of it."

Anna didn't trust Donovans abilities as far as she could throw her and at the moment she'd quite like to throw her in the pool just so she wouldn't have to see that sour face.

"You're certainly productive, you run off with only what you're wearing, yet here you all fully geared up for the gym." Lestrade said with a laugh.

"Where there's a will there's always a way." Anna replied in a friendly tone. "How did you find me?"

"Sherlock was not forthcoming, I had a text from John."

"I suspect I'll get my wrists slapped when I return."

"Consider your wrists already slapped." Lestrade replied jovially. "I'm escorting you back in a police car."

"Well it's nice being punished by a more modern man." Anna joked.

…..

During the drive back to Baker Street Anna became preoccupied again with thoughts of Christopher. There was a nagging in her mind now that was turning into a headache and she didn't like it. Ideally she would like to move him but that would just open everything up to Lestrade and Sherlock. Christopher was in deep with drugs and yet it had nothing to do with this. But because some people wanted to stalk her and photograph her she was being penned in. There was only one thing to do, she would go see Henry Montague when she next had a chance, they could even bloody escort her if they wanted.

….

John slowly diffused the tea bag into a mug subconsciously as he watched Sherlock and Anna. They were seated opposite each other in silence, Sherlock's index fingers were pressed together and his chin rested upon them. Anna sat relaxed in her chair but rather than looking nonchalant she seemed eager to hear Sherlocks next words. She wasn't haughty and she wasn't ignorant, that much John could see. Her actions would be seen as stupid in many peoples eyes but he admired her for them and it did Sherlock good to not get his own way all the time. But then he thought of Soo Lin and how her life had ended. That death still had an impact on him, he wouldn't want Anna to go the same way.

But what did she have to do with any of this? As far as John could see it was all purely circumstantial. It was understandable that she didn't like being cooped up and so snuck out, but to do it straight after talking to Sherlock almost made him laugh.

"Did you enjoy your swim?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm sorry."

"But you're not." Sherlock replied.

"I'm sorry to put anyone out."

"Well as the pool didn't open till 6 o'clock you now know what I'm going to ask."

"I went to Kelseys, I borrowed money. It was a snap judgement I made to go out, I wasn't really dressed for the occasion for starters." She said.

"It was a completely pointless waste of time!" Sherlock groaned. "It's bad enough dealing with all this without having to deal with you acting like some stupid woman!"

"Look, I'm sure you can appreciate needing an outlet." Anna asked. "My head's all over the place, I want to know why the hell I'm being followed! Me! Who can't be of any interest to anyone!"

Suddenly Anna's phone beeped, she took it out and looked. The number was unknown and it was a media message. Opening it she saw a picture of painted woodwork up close, she glared at it long and hard knowing what it meant. Her focus did not go unnoticed and Sherlock came forward and took the phone from her. The content of the message meant little to him so he scanned Anna from head to toe as her reaction should tell him more. But the only slight change was her eyes seemed to have deepened and her arms now hung loosely.

"What does this mean?"

"I don't know, someone is fucking about and I wish they wouldn't." Anna replied.

Sherlock wrote down the number and made a few notes on the colour and detail of the image. He then handed Anna her phone back.

"You should go and rest." John suggested to Anna.

"You want me to leave because he's onto something now I suppose?"

John only smiled but Sherlock had turned and faced the wall in order to think.

'_You don't have a fucking clue.' _Anna thought to herself, it wasn't an angry thought instead it was almost sad. A part of her from long ago almost wanted to reach out to these two men, but she wouldn't. She left the room quietly and as soon as she'd gone John moved to Sherlock.

"What was it?"

"A close up picture of a door, no number, just a part of a door. But enough to let her know exactly where." Sherlock explained. "It's pretty old, battered and the colour suggests a block of flats."

"Well that doesn't really narrow it down." John replied.

"No, but at least the game is picking up again!" Sherlock said almost happily.

"She is in danger." John reminded him.

"Of course, but they could have got her last night, something tells me they don't want to kill her…"

"Yet."

"Not yet."

"Are you sure this isn't a game to reel you in?" John suggested.

"Who cares!" Sherlock said. "The trail is back."

…

Anna's brain could not stop working; it was burning her from the inside. Laying down on the bed she put a pillow over her face and relished in the blackness, holding it either side she made it taut across her features. She did this several times as she held her breath before relaxing. After ten minutes she felt ready, she needed to feel in control again so she went and showered. Her hair, make up and dress became flawless and when she was as close to perfection as she could be she dialled a once familiar number.

"Henry… it's Anna… we need to meet."


	10. Whiter than white

"That's a lovely tan you have there, Henry." Anna said with a familiar tone, no one would think she hadn't seen Henry Montague since they parted ways at Blitz. He had been standing at the bar of his restaurant discussing something with a young waiter and a rather wan looking waitress. After she spoke the pair of staff instinctively left the room and as Henry turned and focused across the elegant looking eating area towards her a spark seemed to ignite. Their gaze lasted long enough for him to smile and as he was about to approach her he noticed a man emerging through the door, a man he recognised. But if Henry Montague was worried at the sight of Sherlock Holmes he didn't show it, instead he put out his arms and Anna went and met him, they embraced in a platonic fashion and seemingly ignored Sherlock.

"How are you, my dear?" Henry asked jovially.

"Well, things aren't exactly smooth running at the moment as I'm sure you've been informed."

"Oh you mean the whole Flirtfetish thing, you and I both know that's old hat and nothing to do with us." He said with such charm it made Sherlock feel a little bit sick, the detective wondered if Anna bought this nauseating tone.

"Nothing to do with me darling, certainly." Anna said more seriously and she moved away and leaned on the bar.

"Rather an extensive tan for Prague Mr Montague." Sherlock said as he approached them.

"I found a whim took me to Spain afterwards." Henry replied.

"Was that whim influenced by possible suspicion that you are involved in this case?" Sherlock asked bluntly.

"Perhaps, it has nothing to do with me and I thought if I stayed away it would soon be tidied up and then I wouldn't have to be bothered."

"Someone has been following me, photographing me…" Anna interrupted.

"Anna that's no surprise, you have all the male population in a trance…"

"Oh Henry turn off the charm it's me, me remember? Who you used to shout at or fuck against the wall sometimes dependent on your mood." Anna persisted, this bluntness gained her inward admiration from Sherlock, he was pleased she'd called time on this smarm.

"Anna." Henry laughed nervously. "You almost make me blush."

"Do you know anything about this? I don't like it Henry and if I'm being targeted because I once worked for you…"

"After those murders I cut ties with Flirtfetish, I sold the bar, you left and I bought these two restaurants. I wanted a fresh start, a clean slate… I have no idea what this is about." Henry explained. "But if you're ever in trouble you know I will do all I can to help you."

"I can look after myself." Anna replied. "We were good once Henry, but I won't be bullshitted."

"Fair enough." Henry said and he looked from Anna to Sherlock. "Anything else?"

"No." Sherlock replied and he oddly put out his hand, Henry shook it without thinking.

"Whilst you're here…" Henry murmured. "Why don't you both have something to eat?"

"What a good idea." Sherlock replied, "I'll just pop to the gents."

Anna was learning to read the signs, Sherlock had something he wanted to find out. As he disappeared she let Henry show her to a table and he sat down opposite her.

"I didn't think you were the type to keep company with those who are in bed with the police." Henry said ruefully.

"He's not 'in bed' with anyone, he's a law unto himself." Anna replied.

_Sherlock had continued uninterrupted down the back corridor approaching the kitchen._

"Where are you living now?"

"With him."

"Oh… I see."

"Not like that."

_The small panel window in the kitchen door showed Sherlock the exact person he was hoping to catch a glimpse of._

"So you're not letting him fuck you against the wall or shout at you when the mood takes him?"

"That's not on his agenda." Anna corrected him.

"You'd be on any mans agenda unless he's…. oh yes I remember there was another chap… are they…"

"No." Anna said without emotion. "You never were good at reading people Henry. All that man is interested in is finding what he wants to find and he will…"

_There she was, that wan looking young woman, he recognised her from the cctv snapshot he was shown by Lestrade. It was the woman that had caused Anna to be arrested for GBH._

"Are you warning me?" Henry asked again with a nervous chuckle.

"No. If you're cuffs are whiter than white, Henry, then you have nothing to worry about."

_Sherlock took out his phone and texted John._

_HM never went abroad, he's lying. Young woman who Anna attacked worked as a waitress in his restaurant. Find out her name, background etc._

_SH_

"I promise you…" Henry said taking her hand. "If someone is following you, it's not because of me."

Henry began stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, Anna was unresponsive to anything, she just kept her eyes fixed on his. After a pause Henry said quietly.

"Are you in too deep with a fella?"

Neither saw Sherlock re-enter the eating area. Henry massage of her hand continued, just as Anna still felt nothing.

"You know me Henry, I would never let it get to that." Anna explained, her icy beauty never looking more radiant than it was at this moment. Even from Sherlock's current view he had to admit she was looking particularly attractive, no doubt with the purpose to influence Henry in some way.

"Is that why you're living with him, are you going to try and conquer him, enrapture him. I bet you could do it…."

Anna pulled her hand away and got up from the table without any visible emotion, she still hadn't noticed Sherlock but she wanted to call this interlude to an end.

"Henry, I am not interested in anything anyone can give me. I just don't particularly want to be followed."

"Ouch. Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your pride."

"You didn't, you've just misread us both." She answered him squarely, then as she turned she noticed Sherlock and she couldn't help but smile. It wasn't a long smile and it didn't go unnoticed by Sherlock, but she reigned it in.

"Good bye Henry." She said and without giving him time to reply she walked towards the exit.

"We won't be eating after all." Sherlock said.

"She has everyone running after her one way or the other." Henry laughed. "She will get you too."

Sherlock didn't reply, he didn't even look at Henry again and just left at his own pace. Henry Montague lingered a moment, recounting every word.

"_If you're cuffs are whiter than white, Henry, then you have nothing to worry about."_ She had said, Henry looked down at his cuffs, played with his cufflinks and readjusted them, it was then he noticed something. Just on the inside of the left one was a small, faint orangey coloured mark. A mark only caused when a product on the skin had rubbed off on cloth. He had shown the true colour of his tan and his lie. Had she seen?

For the first time Henry Montague was worried.


	11. Parallel Interests

**Chapter 11**

_**Authors notes: A bit of a longer chapter this one. Things will start to pull together and make more sense after this. Please let me know what you think, reviews make me happy! Thanks!**_

…_**.**_

Sherlock walked a little ahead of Anna, they progressed content in silence. Sherlock was thinking things over, there was a lot of different threads running. It occurred to him that Anna was perhaps the red herring she declared she was. He had to remember there were two murders to solve first. If he focused on those, he guessed the rest would open up easily. Why was Terry Hutton murdered? That seemed easy to guess, it was likely he kicked up some sort of fuss as FlirtFetish was declining which meant he had to be silenced. In the scheme of things, his death was almost irrelevant. Sherlock flipped out his phone and texted Lestrade.

_Send over Terry Huttons diary and laptop, John is in to collect._

_SH_

Anna was quite enjoying watching Sherlock think, she was feeling a strange sort of admiration for this whirlwind of a man.

_Second murder victim is an employee of Romelly, Draper legal firm. Name Isaac Meadows, used as freelance photographer. Background of R,D seems legit._

_Lestrade_

This was a development, thought Sherlock. It was unlikely this mans commission on Anna was contracted through the firm. It's entire execution was unprofessional and seedy.

_J. Go to see Romelly, Draper. Try and find out if they do business with Henry Montague._

_SH_

A reply was almost immediate.

_Lestrade called and said he was dropping something in._

_J_

_Never mind Lestrade, that's why Mrs H is useful._

_SH_

_Ok_

_J_

Suddenly a thought occurred to him and he turned to Anna, for a second he wondered if she'sd vanished but he saw she was lagging some metres behind, her sight focusing on something across the road.

"Anna?" He asked

For a minute she kept her gaze across the road then she caught up with Sherlock.

"What's the matter?" He asked again.

"Nothing."

"We need to get back, come on, we'll get a cab!"

"Don't you have legs?" Anna asked. "It's not too far, now."

"Every minute is imperative."

"For what?"

"For thinking."

"What are you thinking?"

"About Romelly Draper."

"Is that a woman?" Anna asked.

"You haven't heard of them?"

"No." She replied seriously. "Should I?"

"Who legally represents Henry Montague?"

"It was Benjamin Langden as far as I was aware."

"Do you think he might have changed his representation?"

"No, Ben has been his lawyer for all his working life, friend of his fathers I believe."

So that was one avenue closed, or was it?

"Is that what you were thinking about?" Anna asked with a hint of annoyance, she was now almost running to keep up with Sherlocks pace.

"Yes." He replied with impatience.

"What about seeing, how's that working for you?"

Sherlock stopped and glared at her.

"Be concise or shut up!"

Anna looked at him for a moment, staring incredibly hard then heaving a heavy sigh she started to run ahead of Sherlock down the street. An incredible inner rage filled him, she was impossible and he refused to run after her if she was storming off like a child in a tantrum. But then he noticed something, out of the corner of his eye. Across the road he saw two men in dubious jackets pick up their pace, their concentration focused on the now sprinting Anna. One of them began to run parallel and it hit Sherlock, they had been followed since they left Montagues restaurant.

Heaving a heavy breath of his own Sherlock began pounding down the street, caring little if he barged shoulders with anyone. He wanted to shout her name to make her slow down but that would alert the men even further. Looking round he saw they were both now pursuing Anna on the opposite side of the street, one level with him, the other not far behind. As he watched the young woman athletically keeping a good pace ahead of them he saw one of the men now cross the road gaining some speed ahead of him.

But then something strange happened, Anna just stopped and turned when she reached the corner. Her pursuers also stopped and when they both met up it was clear she had stumped them. This gave Sherlock a moment to steal ahead of them and he reached a panting Anna.

"Now you see." She said almost laughing.

"I do."

"That was quite exciting." Anna breathed, her eyes bright and wide and her cheeks flushed. Sherlock took a moment to assess his own feelings, the short burst of adrenaline had been anything but unpleasant. Today was quite a good day for brain work.

"What are they doing?" She asked looking over Sherlocks shoulder at the two men huddled together in discussion.

"You've confused them, they're reassessing what to do."

"Let's go and ask them." Anna said and she started to move but Sherlock grabbed her arm.

"Are you always this stupid?" Sherlock said in a low tone.

"What I just did was stupid?"

"No that wasn't, but going to speak to them…."

"Let go of my arm!" Anna warned, her eyes narrowed and she looked quite predatory, but such a look had no impact on Sherlock. He kept his grip on her whilst he thought of a course of action.

"Here's what's going to happen, I'm going to put you in a taxi which you are going to take to the police station… I will sort this out." Sherlock explained slowly, his grip on her arm intensifying slightly and his eyes demanded hers.

"Okay." She replied with irritation, which only increased when she saw the two men retreating down the street away from them. Sherlock hailed a taxi and put her in it, making a mental note of the number plate. As it drove away she watched him make nimble progress in the direction of the two men, it was only when they turned the corner and Sherlock was out of sight that she leaned forward.

"Change of plan, can you take me somewhere else, please." Anna asked sweetly.

"Sure, love. Where to?"

"Eastgate Flats please."

….

Sherlocks phone rang just at a pinnacle moment when he now had the men in view again.

"What?" He barked

"I've just seen Anna in a taxi." John replied.

"I know, I sent her to the station."

"Well she's nowhere near it."

"Where abouts are you?" Sherlock said taking out a pen, he wrote down the area of streets and ended the call abruptly, a thing John was used to.

Sherlock looked up, the men had gone. He kicked his foot along the pavement in frustration.

….

As Anna reached the familiar door a sense of dread took over her, she remembered the photo of it she had been sent. It made her nervous and she never got nervous. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths then reached for a set of keys. She had a small struggle with the door as a weight seemed to be against it and upon opening it she saw a chair had been placed in the way.

"Chris!" She shouted, everything seemed silent and the smell was stale. "Chris!"

No answer, but as she looked amongst the dishevelled and broken bits of furniture she knew that Christopher was going through the crisis point of addiction. He wasn't in the living area so she slowly went into the bedroom.

The assault came when she stepped through the door, Christopher lunged from nowhere and immediately began attacking her, he was more forceful than last time but still felt slightly vulnerable. He hit at her arms and shoulders first but then managed a strong backhand across her cheekbone and eye. It sent her reeling onto the bed and in a slight daze. Adrenaline kicked in, now wasn't the time to be in a daze. Staggering up Anna faced her attacker face on, she launched a punch or two at Christopher as he lurched forward. Somehow she managed to twist herself and kick the back of his legs so he fell face down on the bed.

His groaning and swearing started but with repeated blows she managed to subdue him but she didn't bank on his teeth which he managed to latch on her arm. Elbowing him in the side of the head Christopher flopped onto his back stunned. Now she was in a blind rage and grabbing a pillow from the bed she wedged it down onto his face, struggling to stop his erratic arms from gripping her. If she lost now he would no doubt kill her.

Somehow she won, she put it down to his sleep deprivation and soon she had smothered him unconscious. Should she feel shame or sadness at her actions? If she should, she didn't. As she looked down on his limp body, the pain of his attack now ached all over and the sensation of blood trickling down her arm roused her. Now he'd pay for it. She picked up her phone that had fallen during the attack and called the only person who could help.

….

The young woman arrived not long after, when Anna opened the door on her friends face she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Dawn. Thank you for coming."

Dawn entered looking horrified, Anna hadn't yet looked at the angry marks on her body and face and she didn't plan to till the job was done.

"You got them?" She asked.

"It's not often I get calls asking me to get handcuffs from sex shops." Dawn said trying to make a joke, they entered the bedroom where Chris' limp, pathetic body still lay.

"He looks like you've…" Dawn stammered.

"I was tempted, but he's still breathing. I had to use a pillow." Ann replied lacking any emotion.

With Dawns help Anna managed to manoeuvre her brother and handcuff his wrists to the bed. Part of her wanted to laugh, of all the people she imagined doing this to, Christopher was not one of them.

"You've saved my life, Dawn." Anna said giving her friend a hug, she took a moment to still see the faint marks of bruising still on Dawns face.

"I'll do anything for you, you know that. I owe you."

"I don't know, I've beaten your face to a pulp and now this…"

"Well, I don't know if I've done you favours."

"What do you mean?"

Dawn didn't reply and Anna didn't ask anymore.

"Will you come and check on him, feed him, the next few days might be difficult."

"Henry wants to find him, Anna." Dawn said gravely. "He was his best pusher. If Henry finds him all this unravels…"

"No it won't, we'll beat this!" Anna assured her, refusing to let fear and doubt take root. "In three days I'll be back, we'll move Chris… it will be okay."

"Do they suspect Henry?" Dawn asked.

"There's a murder inquiry, they think Henry knows things… I don't know if he does, but hopefully they'll find something to finish him."

"Then Christopher is safe."

"I'm not doing this for him, I don't owe him anything." Anna said with a laugh.

Dawn was a bit perturbed, her friends expression seemed to twist, it was the same expression she had when she had explained her mad cap idea. Not many people would have persuaded Dawn to fake being attacked and go to the police, indeed she was putting more on the line then Anna realised.

"There's one more thing." Anna said. "Someone's been here, I don't know who but I don't think it's Henry. Be careful."

"I will."

…

Back at 221B evidence was strewn over the flat. But for now Sherlock had a map of London stuck to the wall with a big green ring round a small section. John was at his laptop researching.

"Right, we've got five sets on flats in that area… Hingewell apartments, Grey Towers, Peel Flats, Eastgate Flats and Hunter Flats."

"Why would she go there?" Sherlock said aloud.

"Perhaps it was an instruction."

"Why do you say that?"

"Maybe there's something there someone wants her to see, or pick up."

"Possibly." Sherlock mused.

John continued to think and another idea hit him.

"Maybe that's where she's really been all this time, where she was lying low." John suggested.

"No doubt, but why go back there with so many people risking following her." Sherlock continued. "There's something imperative, a need."

"A lover?"

"Quite possibly, though could you imagine her in love?"

"I don't know." John replied. "But the area is what you might call 'seedy' so on the surface it looks bad."

"Hmmm." Sherlock mused, then as quick as turning off a light switch he picked up Huttons laptop and turned it on whilst throwing his diary unceremoniously at John. "To work."

"What am I looking for?" John asked.

"Meetings!"

Just then there was a knock at the door, John waited for a response from Sherlock but the man didn't move. Despite being furthest away, John got up and opened the door, it was Mrs Hudson.

"Sorry to disturb you…" She whispered and seeing she was agitated John let her in. "I have just seen Anna."

Sherlock didn't look up, but he was listening.

"She looks awful."

"Why?" John asked

"She's got a black eye and I think… there's blood on her clothes."

Sherlock jumped from his chair and walked past the shaken lady, he bounded up the stairs and banged on Anna's door.

A voice from inside shouted.

"Go away!"

"Open the door, Anna!"

No answer.

"I'll get in one way or another!" Sherlock warned.

Still no answer came, she was truly infuriating.

"If I have to I'll…"

"Oh for god sake it's open Sherlock!" Anna bellowed and this took him back a moment, slowly he opened the door. There she stood looking at herself in the mirror, dabbing cotton wool onto the small cut on her bruised cheekbone, the bruising spreading to her eye.

"You didn't go to the station."

"You didn't honestly think I would did you?"

"No." Sherlock replied. "I had planned to find out from the taxi where he took you but John saw you."

"So tell me…" She said turning to him, the full extent of her injuries exposed to him as he noticed the teeth marks on her arm.

_Male._ He noted.

"Where have I been?" She asked.

"The flat where that picture was taken."

"Bravo." She said, physically applauding him. "What do you think you'll find?"

"I don't know, but if you're in trouble… we can help you."

"Find out who these men are, leave the rest to me!" Her tone became almost weary, her exhaustion was clear. "Please, just get on with your bit, mine has nothing to do with it!"

"You expect me to trust you and stop investigating you when you run off, withhold information and act completely…"

"Completely?"

"Out of control!" Sherlock shouted making Anna jumped slightly. She came forward and put her hand on his arm.

"I think you need to feel in control." She said quietly, trying to reason with him. "But there are things…."

She stopped a minute and looked at him, his face wasn't as steely as when he first came in.

"We'll figure these things out. If I know of anything to help you, I will tell you. Just let me have my privacy."

"You must know that's impossible whilst you're involved in a murder investigation."

Anna was tired, her aching body and troubled mind needed calm but she would not show the strain. Part of her wanted to, but she wouldn't.

"If you need this that much." She asked calm. "Then why can't you understand that I do to?"

He didn't answer, in truth he hadn't expected her to say anything like that, was she really as unreadable as she seemed. Their gaze lasted long enough for him to become self conscious but it was a shout from John that roused him. Without another word he walked out the room, an action she didn't expect, and he bounded downstairs.

Anna slowly sat on the bed, feeling likely every drop of energy had left her, she didn't even get up to shut the door. Laying down she pressed the pillow to her face again, caring little for the pain and held her breath. She followed this process several times and after fifteen minutes she sat up again, her mind clearer than before.

The next three days were essential. Sacrifices had to be made. The plan was thrown into action.


End file.
